Nothing for Tears
by Losseniaiel
Summary: A series of drabbles on the death of Finrod Felagund
1. The Dancer

                                                            **Nothing for Tears**

**The Dancer**

**Disclaimers:** Middle-earth and all its inhabitants belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate.  I intend no infringement of copyright, and am making no money from this.

**Rating:** PG.

**Summary:** A series of drabbles on the death of Finrod Felagund.

**A/N:** The title comes from 'Nothing for Tears', a part of 'Sampson Agnonistes' by John Milton:

            "Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail

             Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt,

             Dispraise of blame; nothing but well and fair

             And what may quiet us in a death so noble."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_What joy there is in the dancing!_ he thinks as he falls, crumples in the cruel jaws of the wolf, drowning in eyes red as blood.

His legs are ragged, torn and wounded, but still his heart dances, high, high above the green fields of Elven Tirion beyond the distant shore.

No eyes here but the fading ruby of the wolf and the sad, grey eyes of the Mortal he dies to save.  And yet … and yet he sees violet in that horrible darkness, dancing as they swayed, body to body, limb to limb, in the light of the Trees that are gone.

What a joyous dance, a merry, fleeting song, rising to a crescendo of love and hatred!

And then his music ends.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. The Night

                                    **Nothing for Tears**

**The Night**

Disclaimers etc in the first part.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He prays for this to be over, for the night to come upon him, and the Circles of Arda to close tight behind him.  Anything, anything but to sit here in the crawling darkness, drenched and besmeared from head to toe in gore, the limp figure cradled in his lap, golden hair dulled and lifeless.

All hope is gone, all light.  Nothing but black sorrow remains as he weeps free tears over the dead king.

A debt paid, and more than paid, and all for naught, for he has lost the last glimpse of starlight in this place and death smiles at him from the shadows.

Grief is within him and around him, a grim prison, beyond walls and locked gates, from which there is no release.

So he waits for the night, for the jaws of the wolf, and he mourns for the friend of his fathers, the friend of his desperate quest, with burning grief.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	3. The Crown

                                    **Nothing for Tears**

**The Crown**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Silver it gleams in the candlelight of Nargothrond, silver as Teleperion in the morning of its splendour, silver as the twilight on the Western Seas.

He takes one step forward, his feet heavy, his hair flaxen-dull, and reaches out a single finger to touch the empty crown on the great, empty throne.  Yet a shudder rips through him, as if a poison dart had struck his heart, and he recoils, remembering that it is not his but by cowardice only.

A great eye it seems, silver-grey, as the smiling glances of him who bore it, and so he dare not touch it.

By silence and by sheathed arms was his brother slain.

Orodreth, King of Nargothrond in his dead brother's stead, bows his head in his hands and weeps.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	4. The Lily of Remembrace

                                    **Nothing for Tears**

**The Lily of Remembrace**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She sits, still and white as the lily blooms which lie scattered about her feet, and she weeps.

Hands, maidenly but strong, wrap themselves round the scrap of parchment, smooth nails biting into smoother flesh, until drop by drop, her blood falls to her snowy mantle.

No sound, no bemoaning of fate escapes her, but her grief coils around her heart, seeping through her blood, burning in her tears.

And she remembers…

A boy, not yet grown to adulthood, his golden hair lifted in a faint breeze, sitting in the branches of a mighty tree, laughter at his siblings' play lighting his eyes…

A calm voice amid the howling of the winds as he coaxed the stragglers on, urging them across yet another treacherous mile of ice, although his eyes were turned ever back…

But he is no more, for the shadow has taken him.

Blood of her blood.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	5. The Winter Maiden

                                                **Nothing for Tears**

**The Winter Maiden**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She awakens in the dead hour of the night, and winter comes upon her, clawing the heart from her breast.

She clutches the blankets closer, holding cotton and wool hard to her laboured side to staunch the merciless flow of blood from wounds which are not her own.

In the end, she screams, hoarse in the stillness, although she bites her lip through in protest at the betrayal of valour.  Reckless it is, cast adrift in delirium, and the sorrow of the world lives in it.

His soul is fled, and her heart with it, bleeding in the endless night, until she can no longer tell where his red life ends and hers begins.

And the moonlight streaming through the open window seems so very far away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
